


A Very Western Christmas

by TheSmutFaries



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 19:53:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17250350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSmutFaries/pseuds/TheSmutFaries
Summary: Set post "An Ichabbie Western". Ichabod and Abbie celebrate their first Christmas together... back East.





	A Very Western Christmas

“Christmas was always my Mama's favorite holiday.” Abbie sighed as she placed the final ornament on the tree. Well, the last one she was tall enough to place at any rate -- Ichabod would finish the final few boughs and placing the angel.

Ichabod had long come accustomed to telling by which title Abbie used as to whether she was referring to her actual mother or Pandora. This instance, she was referring to her actual mother.

“She loved it Daddy would drag in some old scraggly looking tree because he felt it was manlier to go out in the woods and chop it himself,” Abbie chuckled. She stared at the tree with sadness. “Daddy always took me with him to get the tree. Truth was, our money wasn't good enough. They didn't want to sell a pretty tree to a black man. But Daddy insisted his ladies were going to have a tree.”

Ichabod walked up behind his wife and placed his hands in her shoulders. She sighed softly when he kissed her temple. “The carolers?” Ichabod asked, hearing the voices of one troop down the way.

Abbie laughed. “Lord, yes, the carolers. She would bundle Jenny and me up every Christmas Eve and we'd all four head out and sing for the workers at the docks and in the least savory neighborhoods because we knew the carolers wouldn't go sing for them.”

Ichabod slid his hands down Abbie's arms and then they migrated to her belly. “Something to look forward to then,” he murmured, gently cradling the subtle slope he found there. Had it not been for the bitter cold that plagued the town of Sleepy Hollow, he might have suggested just the two of them go and sing for dock workers and the neighborhoods that never got carolers.

Although that _did_ give him an idea. He gave his lovely wife a kiss on the cheek. “I shall return momentarily,” Ichabod stated, slipping away. 

Abbie turned and cocked a brow. “What are you plotting, husband,” she asked, her lips twisting with amusement.

“Nothing,” he said quickly. A little too quickly because his wife gave him that bemused _uh huh_ as he walked backwards toward the door. “I just recalled there was a matter I needed to speak with Mary about. One of the girls is having trouble with her reading and--”

“Liar,” Abbie laughed. She shooed him playfully. “Just go and do whatever surprise you have in store.”

His wife truly did know him entirely too well. He blew her a kiss and hurried out of the sitting room door, in search of interim headmistress of Mademoiselle P's School for Spirited Girls. 

It was truly a much warmer place than it had been when they arrived in October. He fathomed Abbie's presence alone had melted the icy gloom and chased away the shadows. In truth it was probably the fact the former mistress had kept the curtains pulled tight--year round and all day long from what his wife had said.

The mantels and walls were decked with banners of cedar and holly. Mistletoe hung in archways and occasionally the giggle of a young woman or dandy echoed down the hallway as a caller stole a kiss. Ichabod made his way up the ornate staircase that led to the second and third floors and headed toward the East wing of the third floor.

He stopped outside a door that bore only one name, whereas most of the others in this wing listed two to four names. The name: Mistress Mary Wells

Taking a deep breath, Ichabod knocked upon the door. 

“ _Enter_ ,” a brisk but feminine voice barked.

Ichabod pushed the door open and blinked against the sunlight that illuminated the room. He decided to ignore the man crawling around on all fours, wearing a side saddle upon his back and some of the finest reins money could by. Primly seated in the saddle was his wife's “dearest friend” and his former fiancee, Mary Wells.

She was a dainty but tall thing with a stern expression befitting a school mistress. She wore a leather corset, bustle, and not much else as she turned her mount toward him. There had been a time he hadn't been able to wrap his head around the fact the Mary Wells Abbie had spoken so highly about had been the very same Mary Wells he had once been engaged to. Although Abbie had never mentioned a surname and Mary was a very popular name.

Apparently, after their engagement dissolved, she had found sanctuary with Pandora and had honed not only her skills at dominating others but had learned proper limitations.

Such as the gentleman she was currently “training.” He was perfectly fine with the higher ups of the den being present and Mary knew only the higher ups would dare knock on her door during an encounter.

“Ichabod, what a pleasant surprise,” she preened. She clicked her tongue and gave the man a gentle swat with her crop. This gave the desired effect of making the man move toward him faster. She pulled back on the reins gently and the man came to a cantering halt. She patted his bicep and rubbed it. “Such a good pony,” she cooed, then held a hand up for Ichabod to take.

Ichabod offered his hand and she lifted herself from the saddle. She turned toward her “pony” and rubbed him behind the ears while making kissy sounds. “I love my darling pony…” she kissed his forehead and removed his halter and reins. “Go rest until I'm ready to resume your lessons.”

Ichabod watched in near disbelief as the man made a small, delighted neigh and scurried off to a bowl full of loose oats to eat. Mary sighed happily. “He really is such a good little pony,” she said, her lips pursing with a proud smile.

“Well I am certainly glad you finally found your perfect pet,” Ichabod stated, bowing his head politely.

Mary waved her hand dismissively but her pale skin flushed with ladylike delight. “Enough of me, darling, what brings you to my humble quarters, Ichabod?”

“I need your assistance in surprising my wife,” he said.

Mary grinned and arched a brow. “Oh, darling, I thought I made it clear that your bride and I are merely good friends. If it's a menage a trois you want I would suggest--”

“No!” Ichabod yelped, holding his hands up. “Nothing of that sort…” His face felt aflame when Mary laughed and swatted his arm. It was so strange seeing her truly laugh as opposed to the soft little huffs she used to make years ago. “I need you to assemble a choir of sorts by Christmas Eve. So that they, in the company of myself and Abigail, can go sing carols for the dock workers and the neighborhoods the other carolers avoid.”

“Two days is a bit if a short notice,” Mary hummed, tapping her crop against her shin. “But I _did_ have to replace almost half of the ladies’ choir at a moment's notice, back in the day, when they all caught that nasty bug. _Including a soloist_. Challenge accepted, Mister Crane.”

She thrust her hand out toward him. Ichabod took it and Mary shook his hand firmly. “Thank you, Mary,” he said gently. “Make certain they are dressed warm.”

“Just consider yourself fortunate I love my little sister and would do anything to make her smile,” Mary stated, tucking a curl behind her ear. “Now, if you don't mind, I've still got to finish breaking my pony.”

He nearly told her to have fun but he knew that she would. Now he just had to go check one last arrangement…

~*~

_“Would that make you happy, my little dove,” Pandora intoned. “You think my halls dismal, lacking in Christmas spirit?”_

_Abbie shrugged. “I just thought it might be nice.”_

Later that day Abbie was pulled aside by one of the older girls and told that Pandora never decorated for Christmas or anything else so Abbie hadn't expected much in way of doing so. In fact, in prior years, Pandora had made such a point to recall the privvies needed emptying right as the carolers thought to sing at the den doorsteps.

Insipid caterwauling is what she had called it.

Then again, Pandora had never truly been the holiday cheer type of person. However, the morning after Abbie made the suggestion, the sitting room had been lavishly adorned with a robust tree decorated with tiny candles and ribbon. One of the tables had an old, ornate menorah with the appropriate candles lit for the day. According to Pandora it came from her childhood home and she hadn't used it for decades. The mantel had been adorned with ribbon and stockings for Pandora's favorite daughters. Abbie's had been front and center. Atop the tree was a sparkling brown angel with big black curls under her halo.

Abbie stared up at that angel, now, and felt tears sting her eyes. Though Pandora wasn't her real mother, it was little gestures like that which made Abbie realize the woman _did_ actually care for her and her happiness. That she thought of Abbie as her own flesh and blood.

Whether it was because she loved Abbie, herself or because madness made her see Abbie as a substitute for the daughter she had lost so long ago…

Either way, she had wanted Abbie to be happy. She had sacrificed herself to make certain Abbie could be happy with Ichabod. Abbie brought a kerchief to her eyes with the intent to dab away the tears brimming there. Instead she remembered the love in Pandora's eyes in those final moments.

_“I lost one daughter far too soon,” she said. “I refuse to let it happen again.”_

_“But--”_

_“Listen to your Mother, Abigail,” Pandora snapped, pointing sternly toward the mineshaft entrance. “Go!” If Abbie wasn't mistaken, she saw a single tear streak down her cheek._

Abbie burst into tears, sobbing hard. Later she would blame her pregnancy for making her so sensitive but for now she just let herself cry. She mourned the loss of not only her flesh and blood mother but losing the other woman who proudly called her “daughter.”

After a moment she dabbed away the tears and sniffled. It was Christmas! Her first Christmas with Ichabod. And here she was constantly crying! Why couldn't she be like the graceful ladies she grew up admiring who never cried?

Mama had never cried. Pandora had never cried. And she had witnessed both women face incredible tests of fortitude. 

_“It does no good to cry,” Mama had said once upon a time. “Now dry up those tears before Daddy gets home.”_

_“There comes a time in every woman's life that she's cried too much and she simply cannot shed another senseless tear,” Pandora had said._

Perhaps she just hadn't cried enough yet, Abbie thought with a sigh. It certainly seemed like she was crying at every chance. Hell, just earlier that morning she had started crying because Ichabod _smiled_ at her! How silly was that?

And yesterday she had cried because one of school children had brought in some incredibly adorable stray kittens. She was fairly certain, at some point, her husband would stop being concerned by all her crying.

With that thought, the tears began pouring anew.

As of summoned by her thoughts and tears, she felt her husband's fingers draw her hands away from her eyes and he cradled her face in his hands. He searched for a clue as to what had caused her crying this time.

Abbie sniffled. “I was just thinking about how eventually you'll stop caring that I'm crying so much…” Well, that's what she had _intended_ to say. Whether it actually sounded like that was a mystery because all Abbie heard was her own intelligibile squeaking and whimpering.

“I will never not care about why you are crying.” She pouted when he kissed her forehead. “Do you need to rest, wife?” Ichabod asked, tenderly stroking her cheeks with his thumbs.

No!

Her face squenched up as she nodded; the utter exhaustion crept up like a spectre as she fought back a yawn. Ichabod kissed the tip of her nose as he stood. He took her hands and pulled Abbie to her feet. Abbie was fully prepared to follow along but he whirled her around and swept her into his arms.

Abbie gasped and wrapped her arms around Ichabod's neck. She still hadn't gotten used to her husband randomly picking her up like she was still a blushing bride. Ordinarily she would squeal and laugh and pretend to fight against being carried. However, there were three flights of steps to climb and though she was often _so tired_ as of late Abbie couldn’t find herself using the elevator. So, she tucked her head underneath Ichabod’s chin and sighed with contentment. Her eyes fluttered closed and that was the last she would recall for several hours.

~*~

When Abbie awoke, she was aware of three things. One, she was naked. Two, her husband was in bed with her. Three, she was feeling incredibly amorous.

The first had obviously come about at the hands of her husband. She quite often slept completely naked as of late because her gowns would bundle and twist around her body until she was uncomfortable in the worst ways imaginable. Then there were the nights she would wake up, sweaty and hot. 

Lord help her if Ichabod had snuggled up to her on such a night! She would pure push him away until she could barely tuck her feet under his hip and fall back to sleep while the rest of her sprawled out as it pleased on top of the blankets. On those mornings after, Ichabod would often tease her about how she could be so tiny and take up so much of their big bed.

Her second realization tied directly into the third. 

Oh she loved her darling and patient husband. Her precious gem of a husband that seemed to find her just as attractive with a steadily rounding belly as he did when they first consummated their marriage. Often they would lay in bed and he would stroke her belly, look at her with those big, hopelessly happy eyes, and say how much he loved her and how much he already loved the life settled warmly inside of her.

While they had greatly reduced their amorous activities as of recent, occasionally Abbie was hit by sudden lustful feelings. Her husband, bless him, was more than willing to help her with her predicament.

Abbie pushed her hips back against Ichabod then tilted her head to watch his face. She scowled when he simply slumbered on. Biting her bottom lip, Abbie reached back and rubbed his hip. “Husband… Ichabod?”

He made a small questioning sound then his breathing leveled out again. 

Abbie squeezed his hip and rubbed it again. “ _Husband_ ,” she called softly. He scowled gently and grunted softly. “Ichabod.”

Her bottom lip poked out as she realized she was probably not going to be getting what she wanted from Ichabod. With a heavy sigh she relaxed as best she could in her husband's embrace. Honestly, how inconvenient! 

Suddenly, his arms wrapped around her and he growled playfully as he nipped at her neck. Abbie squealed and he laughed. “What is it, _wife_ ,” he murmured, then kissed along the curve of her neck and shoulder.

Abbie reached back and gripped his hair, tilting her head to let him have better access to her neck. She hummed happily. “More of that,” she replied. One of his hands fluttered over her breasts and she arched toward the light touch, then whimpered when his hand continued downward. 

It moved delicately over her belly, then to her apex. His fingers delved between her thighs. Abbie shuddered and moaned. Another thing that was new, was that even the lightest of touches could set her on edge with ease. Ichabod caught her ear with his teeth and gently sucked as his fingers worked circles around her clit.

And that was all it took for Abbie to begin shivering and shaking with release and she softly called her husband's name. He chuckled and nuzzled her neck. “My lovely, beautiful wife,” he murmured. “Coming apart so easily…”

He brought his hand up to cup her breast and delicately thumb her nipple. Abbie felt her face warm. “Well if my wicked husband hadn't learnt exactly how to manipulate my body, it wouldn't be a problem,” she said, still breathless.

“I find it to be the exact opposite of a problem.” 

“You _would_ you insufferable rake,” Abbie teased. Her eyes fluttered closed and she moaned softly, her hips pushing back against him. She nearly came undone again when Ichabod made a curious sound and his hand glided down to her knee. That sound almost always meant trouble.

And by trouble, she meant pleasure.

He drew her knee upward. Abbie gasped softly when she felt her husband's cock effortlessly slide inside of her. “Opposite of a problem,” he repeated. “Because it gets you wet for me, wife.”

“Oh God,” Abbie groaned. This was more than she could have hoped for when she woke up in a state! Her head cradled against her husband's arm, his mouth doing things to her neck that made her shiver, him taking her from behind, on their sides with slow and gentle strokes… 

He always seemed to know precisely what she needed. It may not always be what she wanted--such as that one time he got her that new pin cushion that looked like a big, plump tomato when the one she had was perfectly fine, despite the fact that it was threadbare and falling apart--but he always seemed to know what she needed.

This particular moment was when her needs intersected with her wants. She was panting his name within seconds. Abbie groaned happily when Ichabod’s grasp tightened, what felt like all over her body. “Please,” she stuttered, her body tightening with pleasure. 

“With pleasure,” Ichabod growled in her ear, and shifted between her legs to rise up behind her, pushing Abbie to her front. He grabbed her hips and pulled her back against him as he slid forward into her wet, willing body. “Oh god,” he moaned, trying to think of anything that could stave off his impending orgasm. He had been craving his wife for nearly a week and he fully intended to savor every second he spent inside of her.

Abbie's back bowed and she released a small, pitched scream as she clenched hard around him. Any further deliberation of fighting off his orgasm were instantly for naught. He pulled her backside flush against him and poured his own release into her with a loud groan. Abbie squeezed him again as she giggled with delight. Ichabod whimpered helplessly.

“Why must you torment me so?” He asked, leaning down to place tiny kisses along the back of her shoulders. Ichabod withdrew from the warmth of her body and pulled her into his arms as he settled against the bed again.

Abbie hugged herself and rocked herself in his arms, a smile on her face. “Because I have a beautiful, wonderful husband,” she sighed, looking up at him with adoration. Her smile faded as her fingers traced his brow and nose. “I hope he has your face.”

“I would rather she have yours,” Ichabod murmured, kissing her roaming fingertips. “Either way, they will be a welcome sight scampering across the ranch, chasing pups.” He saw a tiny flinch of Abbie's brows. “Or… through the very streets that you roamed during your childhood...” He caught her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Whichever you decide.”

“What do _you_ want Ichabod?” Abbie asked softly. “Here or the ranch?”

“I want whichever will bring you the peace of mind you deserve,” he replied in earnest. “So long as I get to be at your side.”

“I'll make my decision by the New Year,” Abbie said. “I promise.”

“There is no need to rush,” Ichabod assured. While, yes, everything he had going in Salt River Falls was on hold while his wife made her decision, he wasn't going to burden her with it. Regardless, the mines would still be mined, the ranch would be tended in the meantime. 

The ranch was in the capable hands of Calvin and Luke. The mines were being managed by Ash and Jesus in his absence, both making certain the Chiricahua got their fair share and that proper thanks was given to the earth each day.

It would remain that way until their return or until they decided to stay in Sleepy Hollow. What would happen if Abbie decided they would stay, he wasn't sure yet, but they would manage.

But he knew it had to be Abbie's decision. Stay here or return to Salt River Falls… and whichever she decided, he would stand by it.


End file.
